Category: Poetry

Poet’s Wife at a Poetry Reading

Maroon, hard-ass plastic chairs arranged, in haphazard semi-circle around The Podium, discount chardonnay and store-bought sweets “breathe” on a folding table. I am not a poet I do not speak       in soliloquy, rhyme, metaphor, or simile. I do not speak       in the

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Head Cold

Sometimes it’s like snot is Amazon’s fastest moving holiday item and the only factory in all of North America is in my skull. And then my lungs turn into a vast warehouse, storing all the phlegm for an entire nation.

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Helping John Piss

Your gown, little more than an oversized rag, is hanging by its fingers. Why do they even bother with the buttons and ties? I see more of your naked body than I ever wanted to. Below the knee, your right

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Life With The Grammar Nazi

I hate pedantic motherfuckers that always correct my parts of speech, she said. I raised one eyebrow a bit and put on my best “Look at me, I’m a prick” smirk. Are you sure you don’t hate pedantic motherfuckers who

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The Wise Man

He sat, legs crossed like the Buddha, his gaze locking me in.  Next to him was a large coal-black pot on a fire, its succulent aroma piercing my nostrils, permeating my head. Come, my son, you must be starving. I

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